


The Owls

by Sailorconstellation



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Crime Bosses, Crimes & Criminals, Heist, Hostage Situations, Murder, Organized Crime, Other, Prohibition Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorconstellation/pseuds/Sailorconstellation
Summary: Oikawa is on the hunt to save someone dear to him from The Owls: The biggest black market in the city. So he attempts to form a team and risk anything for the slightest possibility of saving who he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

Birds flew through the sounds of engines roaring down roads. Their delicate feathers bright against the dusty brown city, the plumes of smoke emerging from each piece of transport. An evening chill went through large jackets, ignored by excited men wearing suspenders and bowties while embraced by a mother, drinking a coffee as she looked over her children. Kicking a ball back and forth between each other, shouting each other’s names jubilantly.

In a corner of town where the shadows whisper to each other, a boy with a lamppost smile shot a cheeky grin to nearby woman who had given him a quick glance. A small cigar sat in his mouth while his hair was cleaned and groomed with finesse, his shirt was open to the evening chill while suspenders emphasized his trained shoulders. A large jacket covered his intimidating stature. He walked by a barber shop knocking on the door.

A small hole in the door slid open. “Password?” said a rough voice, his brown eyes attempting to be intimidating.

“I wear by underwear backwards, boxers not briefs,” he raised his brows while letting out a chuckle.

The door then opened up enough to let him through. Happily the brown banged man strode in, his chest out. Embracing the amber shine of the speakeasies, the golden alcohol being poured by the bartender. Woman laughed on men’s laps, the occasional holding their own dress down.

“Tsuki! Buddy it’s been a long time, how have you been?” he hopped onto a seat, grinning at the bartender.

The bartender poured him a drink. Gritting his teeth, “Oikawa- surprised your still sober.”

He shrugged the comment off, “So any news of ‘the owls’ since you’ve been here.”

“One armed attacked off Nutwell Plaza, besides from that rumours of a drug ring. Probably just wild stories,” he served him the alcohol. It was an aged whisky that Oikawa had started drinking since the moment he first found the speakeasies a year ago, unsurprisingly was called Bitter King.

Oikawa nodded to the news, drinking the strong drink in a few gulps. “There must be more to it.”

“Ask that guy,” he flicked his head to a nearby spiky haired customer. Drinking a foreign beer while scanning the bar. “He told me about the attack, he must know more than me.”

“Thanks, owe you one buddy,” he hopped off his seat. Downing the final bit of drink before putting it randomly on the table, as he neared he couldn’t help but feel a touch of dejavu, had he met this guy before. He wandered over, putting on his best smile, “So-“the stranger lifted his head, “I hear you know about the most recent owl attack.”

“What about it bowtie?” he shot him a glare, sipping on his beer.

“I,” he jumped into the seat beside him, “have some business with some owls, some would even say with the horned owl.” He pulled his suspenders proudly.

“Trade?” the stranger didn’t look at him, instead placing the nearby woman as an important point of attention. “Brothels? Alcohol? Specify.”

Oikawa was taken aback by the bluntness of the collage, the oddly familiar colleague. He had seen him around before but he struggled to pinpoint where, “you’ll only learn if you help me, what you’d say mate?”

“Oikawa you never learn do you,” the stranger shook his head, letting out a grumble.

He lifted a single brow, “Iwa?”

“Who do you think?” he looked at his old friend, with dead fish eyes. Continuing to drink the old alcohol slowly.

“It’s been so long man, so what do you say, help an old friend out?” he offered him a cigarette, before lightning himself a new one. Needless to say Iwazumi declined, still sticking to his promise of no cigars, even after all these years mused Alexander to himself.

Iwazumi faced him, putting down his now finished beer. He wasn’t going to find a clean way to get out of this now. “Sure, just stop smoking that damn cigar.”

Grumbling he took out the cigar from his mouth, breathing out a plume of smoke.

The hairs of the back of Iwazumi’s neck rose as he remembered something, bitter memories resurfacing for a single moment before he pushed them aside.

Oikawa put up his hand, another cup of whisky sliding to his side. “The horned owl has recently taken someone important from me. It’s our job to get them back.”

“Seems simple enough,” he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was going after a simple task. He imagined if it was anything more than he wouldn’t be able to hide away at night. A task he could stay unknown in.

 “It is, it is. We can even start hunting once we leave this place, simplifies every-thing” he sang the final word as he downed the drink like a shot. He slammed his hand on the table, “come on, one more mate.”

Tsuki cleaned his hand off the table, wiping it away with force. “Hands off you light,” he grumbled.

“Suki~” he spoke as sweetly as possible.

Tsuki simply shook his head with a sharp glare. Moving on to the next customer without a break in stride, breaking out the shaker.

He pouted, leaning on the table angrily, huffing like a child. Quickly remembering he had company he turned to Iwazumi, “so mate, wanna help a man out?”

“Put the drinks on my tab,” shouted Iwazumi, raising his hand. He looked towards the now childish companion and sighed heavily. What had he just agreed himself to.

By the time Oikawa had woken up it was tomorrow afternoon, he was on his couch. Half his body leaning onto the floor while his well-kept hair had turned into a loved birds nest. He groggily sat up to find a letter on the table, rubbing his eyes he started to read the letter with some effort. After re-reading several times to make sure the S was not a Z he finally figured out what it said.

_32 Station Street, 1700_

He picked up his watch that lay nearby, he wasn’t sure whether he had taken it off or Iwazumi did, either way it was next to him. It was 3:42pm, he knew Station Street was a 20 minute walk away. So he got out of bed, doing up the buttons for his shirt, putting a vest on and fixing up his hair. He took a small handgun and placed it in his pocket. He checked himself in the mirror to see if he had any injuries, surprised to find himself clean. He smile slightly. He walked out the door, his shoes creaking down the metal stairs to his cheap apartment. He greeted his elderly neighbours, walking down the quiet streets around his apartment. As he turned the corner the place seemed to burst into life. Woman buying groceries with their children, cars humming along in their own pace. He zig-zagged past a paper boy shouting out “MAN SHOT AT NUTWELL PLAZE!! GET YOUR NEWS GET YOUR NEWS!”

He smelled the sticky sweet smell of the bakery, a piece of him tempted to get some food. Eventually caving in and buying a ham and pineapple sandwich for a few pence. He spotted a busker singing in the corner, impressed at their resolve. Continuing past a young couple in a carriage ride, walking down the river, scanning the unknown buildings nearby until finally reaching a dusty station with clocks a few minutes behind. He sat in silence finishing up his scroll as the evening began to settle across the sky. As he was about to light a cigarette a voice struck out at him.

“Oy!” snapped Iwazumi, his hands in his suit pocket.

Instantly he put the cigar away, stuffing it in his pockets, putting on his best smile. “Iwazumi! You came.”

“I heard some news about the owls while you were sleeping about,” he said, hoping the sound of nearby chatter would drown out his words. “A nearby joint may or may not have strong connections to the owls, a part of their branch apprently.”

“Then let’s go check it out,” Oikawa was about to start walking when he felt a tug at the back of his neck. “What’s the holdup?”

“It’s Ukai’s place, last time I checked everyone who goes to Blue Castle were banned from that place,” he shot a glare at the cocky man who instantly deflated at the words.

“Banned, that’s bullshit, we can just walk in like usual and pay what we’re due right?” When they got there they quickly discovered no, they couldn’t just walk in like usual while making up a passwords with a chipper smile. The second they knocked the door a gun was shoved in Oikawa’s face. Leaving them to walk through the cold with no leads for 10 minutes nearby. “That didn’t quite go to plan.”

“I’m not even surprised,” he sighed. They walked down the town to a nearby open mixed speak, with nothing to guide them but a sense of hunger and the menial amount of money they had. As Oikawa continued through the speak, happy to get drunk and wake up in the afternoon again.

Iwazumi listened out for any sign of change within the silent speak. They were the only two customers, a large white haired man with no eyebrows stood at the entrance while a shorter brown haired banged man stood behind the counter looking worried at Oikawa’s attempts at conversation with the stationary guard.

“So you from around here?” asked the bartender.

Iwazumi perked up, “near Ashens Hill, you?”

“Local area, so you like the brew. From a local guy named Azumane,” explained the bartender, wanting to fill the silence as much as possible. It didn’t really work.

Iwazumi thought back, Azumane. He stocked everywhere with good wine, even Ukai’s. “Azumane? How often does he stock up your place?”

“He’s actually going to restock our wine today,” he re-cleaned his wine glasses repeated. Playing them back continuously. The sound of the gramophone playing a soft jazz song in the background.

“Really?” he leaned forward, “can you get me some water?”

“Sure,” he wandered over and got some water from the tap. Placing it in front of him as a knocking happened on the door. From after a few words passed between the guard and the door a tall long haired man walked through the door, he was dressed in a clean suit. Holding a bag with him.

“Hey Futakuchi, got you a bottle of red wine,” as he sat down he realized there was company. Instantly sweating just a little bit. “Ummm, I’m Azumane. Pleased to meet you…”

“Iwazumi,” they shook hands as the man handed over the bottle of wine. “That idiot over there trying to annoy the guard is Oikawa.”

The three of them looked over to the brown haired guy really trying his hardest to the guard distracted. It had been like half and hour. How long could this guy talk to a brick wall anyway? Iwazumi sighed heavily while everyone else chuckled politely. “Aone is like that, can’t stop focusing on protecting this place,” he served the winemaker a glass of juice. His eyes still focused on the door. “This place is so open a suicide bomber could walk in and none of us would know.” The guard gave him a sharp glare from his words. Making him jump out of his skin before opening the package.

“Don’t say that,” whined the winemaker.

“It’s true,” he held the bottle in his hands, inspecting the ruby liquid in its case. “The only person that has a chance of being safe from those bloody gunmen are you Azumane and even then its if they recognize you."

Iwazumi chuckled as the large man let out a nervous squeak yet again. They certainly did leave themselves open travelling around so openly. For all he knew there could be a-

**CRASH**

Gunman on their tail. 

In a large kick a man barged through the door, his gun forward he shot into the guards knee and hand in two sharp strikes. Owl masks were plastered across their faces. Oikawa instantly threw himself over the counter along with everyone else while two more people followed behind the gunman. Breaking the glass windows with the back of their shotguns.

A constant rattle went throughout the room as they let their guns loose. Aiming at both everything and nothing at the same time as they wandered throughout the room. They cooed at the silence filled with the groans of pain from Aone.

“What are we going to do?” cried Azumane in a sharp whisper.

Futakuchi put a finger to his lips, everyone peering at him hoping for some way out of this. There was nothing to mcgyver their way out of this. The only alcohol was wine. Opening a door in the floor he encouraged everyone to jump down into the darkness, as they got to the last two people Oikawa offered to stay behind. After a worried glance at Aone from Futa he jumped down behind them.

Oikawa looked at the scene nearby, the light machine gun going off while their shotguns resonated. He gritted his teeth thinking of what to do to not die but save Aone. Molotov? No. Explosion? No. Nothing would work, cursing under his breath he walked down the ladder of the trap door. Locking it as he went down the cramped hole into the darkness.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There was a cold chill down in the sewers, nobody dared to speak in case anyone found out where they had escaped to. All Oikawa cared about was keeping the people around him safe, he dropped down the ladder into fridged water that hugged his knees. He looked around counting the people around him: Iwazumi, Futakuchi and Azumane. Not exactly his choice looking at the alcohol lover’s pale face but there was no way to change things, fate had taken its course. 

They trudged through the slop in silence, Azumane rubbing his arms to keep himself warm while Fuka and Iwa both continued in a still focus. Clearly both experienced in the sort of gunfire that Oikawa had experienced in some degree but couldn’t fight against. Couldn’t exactly bring a knife to a gun fight after all. 

Fuka took the lead after a short time directing them through the intricate tunnel system. The pattern seemed to be written on his hand the way he knew every corner. Pointing out every unknown step and suddenly deep section of sewer until they finally reached a manhole. Quickly hushing them he stepped up the stairs, carefully footing himself up the long way to the manhole.

Azuma followed behind seemingly afraid of the tightness of the stairway. Followed by Iwa then Oikawa, taking the snake butt. He gripped his gun tight as they climbed outside to the silence of midnight in a suburban street. As they climbed out Fuka let out a shaky breath, physically hugging himself tight as he fought to get his head back together. It felt like he had let out the pressure to a ball, his mind falling flat. 

Azuma walked up to him, keeping him close. Taking off his huge jacket and throwing it over his friends shoulder. “He’ll be fine, sh sh shhhhh,” he spoke softly to the bartender.  
Fuka looked at the large man with large eyes. Shoving his head into his shoulders, wheezing through tears. 

Azuma looked back at the duo pleadingly. 

“Let’s look for a place to stay for the next few days until this tides over,” muttered Iwa patting Oikawa on the back. They walked through the quiet neighbourhood, Iwa leading the way past the white picket fences. Night lights of kids lighting their path while the lampposts glowed in the sky. Little fireflies crawled around the dark green suburbs. They walked to the nearby shopping strip, finding a small hotel for them to stay in. 

Oikawa payed for the family sized room and supported everyone up the elevator to the room 78. When they got to the room they urged Fuka to sleep first. After leaving him to talk with Azuma for a few quiet minutes he was eventually cooed to asleep. 

Azuma left the room with a cold look, looking towards Oikawa and Iwa. Sitting down on the couches in the lounge. “So what your plan?”

Oikawa looked out the nearby window, “stay here until Fuka recovers then go from there.”

“I’ll have to head off in the next three or so days,” he counted them on his hand. “People from the family generally start worrying after that.”

“What’s your connection to ‘the owls’ anyway?” Iwa leant forward. 

Azuma went thin lipped, rubbing them together. Contemplating whether it was worth saying anything, “I could say the same for you.”

Oikawa shrugged, leaning back on the couch, “they took someone important to me as hostage a while ago. Need to get him back.”

“Hostage!” he spoke in surprise, the hair at the back of his neck rising. “What about you?”

“They lit a few cigars in the wrong place,” shrugged Iwa. Looking at the stained carpet below him. 

“I happen to be childhood friends with the monarchy,” instantly Oikawa and Iwa perked up at the words, leaning forward. “you know who they are, right?” he scratched the back of his head. 

The listening duo shook their heads. 

“Okay then, it consists of Daichi and Sugawara, some people called them the ‘king and queen’. Daichi is head of all black market trading across the region. Keep everyone on schedule while checking quality of stock, every nicknames him the king. On the other hand Sugawara or Suga is the queen, known for his strict training with proven results, known for caring for every thug under his control with the upmost care. Some thugs have called him mother in the past, leaving him to be queen.” In the time of explaining Oikawa had made them some instant coffee. Serving them after a few spoons full of sugar and a snuck in bit of whisky from a tiny flask in his pocket to his own and sitting down. 

Iwa took a drink of his coffee, “could we get information out of them for the whereabouts of the horned owl?”

“No,” he put his cup down looking at the room containing the sleeping Fuka. Reminded of the deeds the owls could commit he took a deep breath and continued forward, “They are kept under constant watch, if Daichi isn’t in a trade route he’s either with his family or with Suga. Rumours have even been circulating of them sleeping with each other,” he yawned concluding. “I wouldn’t be able to ask without being killed afterwards.”

“So that’s a bust,” Oikawa muttered under his breath. 

Iwa glared at Oikawa, “what would you recommend then?”

“Well… Not the most qualified to say anything but I’d say go to some stronger powers for help you get your hostage back. The owls are a national business.” He drank more of his coffee, “if I was doing this I’d get insider information and collect an elite team together. But you know, just what I think.” He let out a longer yawn, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to go to bed, ‘night.” He stretched walking to the same bedroom as Fuka. Reckoning he could go in another one of the separate beds, and generally hang around if he ended up getting emotional throughout the next while. 

Leaving Iwa and Oikawa in silence with only coffee and the sounds of the city to soothe them from the days events. Oikawa perked up, “I’ll take night watch.”

Iwa nodded, taking the finished cups to the kitchen and cleaning them. Closing his eyes to the sound of life buzzing and humming nearby. As he went to the second bedroom, he turned to Oikawa who had gotten his cigars out. About to say something before deciding against it, Oikawa wanted to keep it confidential after all, no point saying. 

The next two days passed quietly, Iwa had taken to cooking and caring for everyone with help from Asahi. Due to Iwa’s plain looks he went up and down the local strip buying groceries and collecting first aid as well as more security measures. Cooking plain dishes of rice with canned tomato soup, and fetching burgers from the local fast food joint as well as collecting new pairs of clothes from the local second-hand clothes store. 

Fuze was consoled by Azuma during every breakdown meanwhile Oikawa couldn’t help but light cigar and cigar. Looking for a way to dull down his racing mind. Counting the hours that the hostage sat in the owls hands. Yet he pulled the cigars away every time Iwa returned from shopping to cook something substantial for lunch and supper. He didn’t understand why he had to stop but considering their position and how weak the deal was Oikawa didn’t want to risk provoking Iwa to leave. 

On the third night since their arrival Azuma sat the trio down in front of him. Oikawa on his 6th cup of coffee, struggling having stayed sober for so long, while Fuze was finally able to look ahead without fear. 

“I know someone you guys should visit if you need information to get your hostage back and…” he looked towards Fuze, “killed the horned owl. He’s a guy by the name Ikejiri, lives back at Lonsdale, used to work with the king and knew someone high in the security office. He knows all the possible locations of your hostage and possibly the horned owl.” He shrugged, “Right now he works in a bakery in Nutwell Plaza called Bread and Butter, one of the bakers, generally works on sweets. You’ll find him around there. Oikawa…”  
Oikawa glared at him, bags under his eyes. His used to be incredible hair was a spiky mess. 

“You may need to change your whole look if you’re going around Nutwell,” he gestured to all of Oikawa. 

He looked up at his own hair, unlit cigar in his mouth. Grumbling to himself as he speech droned on about things to keep in mind for each of them. Azuma left comfortably at 10 into the night, calling a taxi to take him to his house. Leaving the impatient trio in the silent household. 

They adjusted their seats so one sat on each couch, getting a piece of hotel paper and the pen provided and began to write down tasks and ideas. Fuze was set to go to the Bread and Butter while Oikawa had to get a haircut (to his displeasure) and a pair of glasses. Iwa on the other hand did a one-off job to pay for the sudden expenses that arose. Leading to a one mundane but very long day. 

\------------

Fuze was the first one to wake up the next day, since Iwa had pretty much taken on the housewife duties he had gotten to bed as early as possible and slept the longest. Leaving him to wake up, eating a bowl of corn flakes (boringly enough) before heading down to Nutwell Plaza. He scanned each alley way and crack in the buildings for signs of speakeasies, he could imagine the sounds of glasses clinking together in his head. With his plain pants and cheap sweater he blended into the crowds of people. Keeping his eyes ahead, a hat covering his head.

After asking a few nearby women for directions to the Bread and Butter he found himself in a large plaza. A fountain sat in the middle while different stores stood at every side, ranging from electronics to restaurants he couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Ikejiri had clearly found himself a good spot, mused Fuze with a smile. 

He walked into the bakery, the fresh smell of bread wafting through the air. He couldn’t help but salivate just a little bit. At the counter a young woman stood there, wearing her uniform uncomfortably. She was clearly new by how few creases there were in her apron, not even a stain. 

“Morning, a dozen sugar cookies.” He placed several coins on the table and waited, keeping his eye out for any sign of a mistake. As she placed the cookies in a bag and returned to him, giving him the sweet treats with a non-committed smile. As he payed and took a bit he pretended to gag, glaring at the server who instantly lost any sign of a smile. “Who baked these? These taste like salted horse shit.”

“Ummm, the baker sir…” she looked around uncertainly. 

Fuze couldn’t help but feel grateful that the place was quiet in the early morning, him being the only one in the store. “What’s that fucker’s name?”

“Ikejiri sir,” she bowed her head sadly, as Fuze began to let off a lengthy rant about the state of cookies and how the baker had ruined the value of sugar “I’ll bring him over.”

A freckle faced man wearing a frilly apron stepped out from kitchen, flour covering his face. “Is something the problem?”

“You’ve made the worst sugar cookies in the west end, even I know a better recipe then this shit,” barked Fuze, his arms crossed. Keeping the cookies, he seriously did enjoy, close to him. 

He couldn’t help but feel his eye twitch, “if you want we will refund you and you can choose a different choice of cookies.”

“How about I just teach you a GOOD cookie recipe right now on,” he pointed to a nearby table with plastic seats, “THAT table, then call it a day.”

Ikejiri and the woman looked at each other uncertainly before finally he said, “if you insist sir.” He slid out from behind the counter and walked to the table with Fuze. The morning rush beginning behind them, the bartender couldn’t help but smile as a crowd of chatter began. The morning breakfast mom (and dads) were out getting food.  
“So what about a sugar cookie recipe…” trailed Ikejiri, eyeing his work station nervously from afar. 

He looked at the spaghetti noddle armed baker, the frilly apron and waited until he was content with how much sound was around him. “I heard from someone that you used to work for the owls.”

“Was just a goon,” his attention turned to Fuzu, a glare like daggers.

He shrugged, “why’d you quit ranga?” 

Ikejiri leaned towards him, hissing between his teeth, “I quit because they set my last house on fire after I misplaced something.” His voice contained a cold anger that hit Fuzu’s ears like frostbite. 

Comfort settled in him, “they destroyed everything you had worked hard to earn.” He shook his head, realizing he had clearly lost something big to be given that punishment. “Right now they’ve captured someone, like you and me, as a hostage. Got a few people together who are willing to fight to get that kid back, all we need is someone who knows the owls to help out.” 

“That’s unlike them,” Ikijiri muttered under his breath before letting out a sigh. “let me meet your group then I’ll decide.” 

“Paper?” he gestured his hands in a ‘bring it here’ motion. 

The freckle faced baker took out his shopping list from his pocket, writing on the next page the site of apartment. Handing it back to him. 

“Come when your shift is done,” he let out a smile to the cautious Ikijiri. 

“IKI!!” 

Instantly he jumped from his seat, pushing in the squeaking chair. “Thanks for the recipe.” Racing back between the multiplying amount of people. Grandma’s for morning tea while children bought bread rolls. 

Fuzu knew with some certainty that they were not heard, well, he furrowed his brow, he hoped no one had. He left the bakery passing the busy streets until he got back home. His eyes widened as he spotted the new Oikawa in front of him. 

He wore teacher-glasses and his hair was shortened to a fluff down the sides of his head. He also wore a groom’s hat, along with having tried the hand-me-down clothes from earlier in the week he had found a cheap blue shirt and a slightly-too-big brown sweater. He didn’t want to believe it, this strange looking man was going to help take down the owls with him. 

After attempting to cover his laughter he eventually burst out laughing to a quick increased wearing of the hat. 

“Oikawa,” he couldn’t stop chuckling, “didn’t realize you were a teacher now.”

“Shut it grifter,” He kept adjusting his look in the mirror uncertainly. Embarrassed with how he was in the mirror. “It’s Izaka now.”

“Izaka?” he burst out laughing again, eating a cookie happily. Savouring the sweet little victory of today. 

Red faced Oikawa snapped, “what did you do complete today you wanker?”

“Well…” he raised a cookie up in celebration, “Ikejiri has agreed to join us on our little mission Izaka.” He let out a chuckle. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he wandered over, taking a cookie from the bag. “He actually agreed. This calls for celebration.”

“There’s a dive nearby, seems like all entry. Gave it a quick look while I was coming back. Got a 2 for 1 deal tonight,” recited Fuzu between chews of the sugar cookies.  
“Let’s go.”

An hour after Fuzu and Oikawa/Izaka left for the speak, Iwa returned home money in hand. He locked the door behind him enjoying the relief of silence. “I’m home!” No response. For a second his mind rushed to the worst possible scenario, so he raced around the apartment checking the bedrooms to find them still messy and to find no bodies to his great relief. He let out a long breath, sitting on the couch in the lounge. 

Over the fence building job he had heard news of a huge local mob boss living nearby everyone called Caesar. Meaning there was a connection that could lead them for a way to get Oikawa hostage back. He remembered there was no point lying to himself anymore. He knew what they were fighting to save, knew who even. On the piece of paper he kept permanently in his pocket he wrote down the words, ‘save Oikawa’s brother.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trial by fire for these guys

When the clock struck 11pm Iwa heard a knock at the door. He got up and walked to the door, after noticing the person didn’t barge in after a few seconds he opened the door to see a brown haired, freckle faced kid with flour covering his arms and face. 

“Are you a part of the anti-owl group?” he pointed at Iwa. 

Iwa nodded, “which makes you Ikijiri. Name’s Iwaizumi, the guy who convinced you to come here’s called Futakuchi.” He held out his hand for a shake, which they did before Ikijiri walked himself to the couches. Iwa wandered to the coffee machine, pointing to it. 

“I take tea.”

He grabbed the bags from the top shelf and made two cups of tea, serving them in front of them. 

“So the owls have taken someone hostage, that’s unlike them.” He blew on the tea. “They mainly run black market trade across the coast,” he searched his head trying to remember the cold nights working carrying alcohol across the nation. He couldn’t quite remember if they ever did hostage cases, wasn’t too farfetched of a situation. 

“So you know their locations,” Iwa’s finger tapped on the table, waiting for the information dump. 

“To an extent,” he drank the tea nervously. “They have two bases of trades along Blindman’s Edge along with over a dozen speaks tied to them just in this local area alone.”  
“No main base of operation,” surprised at the lack of a main location. Even for a black market trade business there would be some sense of totalitarianism between the horned owl and the monarchy that rule everyone else. 

“It would be pretty dumb if they let any old good know where the leader sat,” explained Ikijiri with a tense chuckle. 

Not even the slightest bit surprised at this info. Well at least he now knew how big of an operation they were really going to do. “That’s fair enough, but you must have at least heard rumours about where the horned owl resides.” 

Ikijiri began to shake his leg relentlessly, “I’ve heard a few things…”

“Take your time,” he drunk the amber tea. “We’ve got all night.”

He sat there jittering, going through his own head of rumours and contemplating if it was worth telling these unknowns anything. They asked him about a huge black market group after all, so he assumed they were ignorant, about the danger they were putting themselves and others in. “Y-you do realize if I tell you anything I’ll be killed.”

“We’ll do anything in our power to prevent you from dying, if you join our group.” His face was stone cold. Sipping the hot drink slowly. 

Ikijiri exhaled, furrowing his brow. “Apparently there’s an island a fair sail away from Birdman’s Edge, heavily guarded place. If they were keeping a hostages out of the way then they’d keep him there. Apparently the horned owl likes to make all his plans on that place.” 

“Welcome to the team Ikijiri,” he held out his hand for a hesitant handshake. 

The next few days Ikijiri hung around close to their apartment, rarely leaving Iwa’s side Oikawa spoke proudly and in incredible woman he banged during the night of celebration, relieved he was sober enough to pick out someone good. Fuze less content in picking him up in a dumpster shirtless with a dopey smile on his face. They bought a cheap map from the local, allowing Ikijiri to mark out every speakeasy worth worrying about as well as the island’s location. 

Iwa explained what he knew about the local mob boss as best he could to the group. Having been told his base after he explained he needed to get his goods from him he was told a place to find him with ease. It was a hairdressers place called Halo and hour off from them. They decided to leave the place unguarded, Ikijiri went to his job while everyone else went off to the location. 

They reached the quaint looking barber shop during sunset, the last car rumbled behind them. The car pulled up beside them, an older man wearing a large hat put his head out the window. “What are you boys here for?”

“Got to meet the hairdresser, hair’s getting a little long.” Fuze pulled at his long bangs, a cheeky smirk on his face as they wandered close to the car. 

The man grumbled, using his handgun to adjust his hat, “the place’s closed.”

Instantly Fuze tensed up. His eyes following the gun in the man’s hand as he sat comfortably in his car. 

“Pity,” he strolled up, putting his arms over the car window, the man went to the back of his seat. “If you work here maybe you could take us to your boss.”

Iwa put his hand on the car, his hand in his pocket. Gripping the gun that lay in his pocket. He double checked the silencer on it. 

Oikawa smirked, “really need that haircut.”

In the few seconds the man looked between Iwa and Oikawa. As he raised his arm up to fire, Oikawa took the arm grabbing the gun as he slammed it against the door, an ear shatting bang went through the car roof. Gliding past his cheek. With his free hand he unlocked the car, throwing the man to the ground, grabbing the knife from his pants he put it close to his neck. He dragged the injured man into the local hairdresser, his group following behind. He pulled the man’s head up to him whispering, “take me to the boss you rat.” Pressing the knife to his throat. 

“You son of a bitch,” the man shouted angrily, his spit landing on Oikawa’s face. “I won’t say a thing.”

He had a bitter look to him before throwing him to the ground. Pressing him down, pushing the knife against his neck.

He continued to roar and shout impatiently at the top of his lungs. Growling and clawing at his pockets, Oikawa grabbed knives and excess weaponary out of his pockets. Passing the smoke bomb and grenade over to Iwa. 

Iwa took out his gun while Fuze stood by the door. Scanning for the sounds of car engines and tvs, his eyes on the low rumble of chatter. 

Iwa’s steps were heavy against the floorboards, he put the gun to the man’s head. The soft click resonating throughout the building which his sharp glare piecered his skin. His finger playing with the trigger. Instantly the man went silent staring at Iwa in the eye. 

“I won’t say a thing,” repeated the man through gritted teeth. 

Oikawa shrugged, pressing the knife down. A thing line of blood began to form around the knife, “really?” he cheered, turning towards Iwa. “Listen to this rat Iwa, thinks he can worm his way out of this.” He slid the knife up, raising it towards the bottom of his chin, a deadly smirk. 

The man sweated, looking at the knife as it pressed against under his chin. A harsh string running through him as oikawa began to slowly increase pressure. 

“If you take us to your boss we can stop all this,” whispered Oikawa, a little too comfortable with the situation. Calmly allowing the blood to snowball from his neck. 

Content that Oikawa had the lead Iwa relaxed, holding the gun on his forehead. Waiting for a sound of resistance when finally. 

“I’ll tell you.” 

Oikawa lifted the knife, putting it back comfortably. It was dripping with stark red blood. Grabbing the man by the collar and lifting him up to the quiet hairdressing salon. “Then show us the way,” he flicked Fuze away from the door who examined the wound. He kept a hand gripped onto his back collar. 

Oikawa dropped the man, keeping his knife on hand. 

“At the back door there’s a door behind a bookshelf, the password is shanghai,” explained the man through heaved breath. Hunched over, holding his neck. 

Fuze guarded the door “Really? Then show us the way.”

The guard glared at them with bloodshot eyes. Cursing beneath his breath as he agreed to walking them outside around the hairdresser, the sky speckled with stars and smoke from factories. The cold nipped at their heels as they reached the back door. 

Inside was a quiet room that looked like any other, some work on the table as well as a cup of coffee sitting half-empty. Next to the table sat a regular bookshelf, surprisingly small compared to what Fuze expected. 

Iwa and Fuze moved the bookshelf out of the way, closing the back door and covering it with a curtain. Oikawa pressing his knife out of the viewer’s reach with a relaxed smile. The man looked back with a unsure death glare before knocking the door. 

“Shanghai,” he croaked. The door was opened to reveal a dark trail of stairs leading down, spider webs welcomed them. 

Releasing his knife and putting in his pocket Oikawa walked down the dusty stairs. It was a cramped walk, could barely fit everyone as they walked down the stairs. Spider webs hit their necks as a man in front of them opened the door to reveal a large open room. It was clean and open guards sat in the middle, a large man smoking sat in a leather chair. Guards at his side while candles burned nearby. 

A shiver ran up Oikawa’s spine as he spotted the bronze and golden linings to the rooms, glinting across the lion footed table holding a bottle of ruby wine. They walked in to realize there were in a lined walkway. It could barely fit the four of them, guards were at every side. Guns were swung to their sides. The clicks of stocking up bullets filled the silence. 

“Who are you?” a plume of whispy smoke emerged from his mouth, the thin line rolling all the way up to the ceiling. 

The man snapped, “Father, these guys tried kill me!” His face was scrunched in pain while the blood continued to fall away onto his suit. A endless screaming tangent coming from his mouth, tainted in red. 

As the screeching escalated Ushijima looked at the guard next to the bleeding man. 

As if catching the message the man cocked his weapon and shot, an explosion of gore erupted in front of them, staining their clothes as they stood there. 

Fuze couldn’t help but freeze up at the sight, becoming wide eyed. He breathed to calm himself with little results, jesus Christ they were getting into something big. The reality suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“Hands out of your pockets,” the trio put their hands up, Iwa and Oikawa having no gripe with keeping a even face. Only the slightest sound of breathing could be heard between them as they followed the dons orders. The guards raising the weapons to their necks. “Who are you?”

Oikawa licked his lips which, to no surprise, tasted like blood. “We are some men on a mission, and we would like your help.”

“Elaborate,” to the nearest mobsters surprise the father wanted them to continue. Beginning to tap a single finger, his eyes not as deadfish as before. 

“We want to save my brother, I believe the horned owl has taken him custody.” It take every grain of him to ignore the quick drying blood crusting over his mouth and the creases in his skin. 

The mob boss leaned forward, a glint in his eyes. “The horned owl? What makes you believe I’m willing to put the family in danger to save a child,” his voice was low and rough.   
“With your cooperation we could take down the horned owl would be down in one foul swoop. All that’s missing is your assistance,” he stressed the words one foul swoop, a dark smile on his face as he explained. Oddly cheerful. 

The father narrowed his eyes at them, scanning them. He let put his hand up, grabbing for something. “M32” 

A mobster scuttled to a nearby shelf grabbing a file out. He handed it to the father worryingly. 

Fuze looked to Iwa confused uncertain what was going on, Oikawa squinted his eyes double checking he was seeing everything right while Iwa continued to try keeping a straight face. 

He flipped through the pages, almost confirming to himself that it was the right one. “Complete this task for us and we may take your words into consideration.” He chucked the file (a fair way) to Oikawa’s feet, landing in the blood pooled around the dead man. 

Oikawa reached over the body, grabbing the files. Flicking excess blood off it he began to read the file. 

“Take your leave.” 

Oikawa turned to face his buddies, flicking his head back to the door. He didn’t need to be told to know he wouldn’t be allowed to utter a word to anyone outside the three of them. They walked up the stairs ducking their heads a touch. 

As they finally reached the darkness of the back door hairdresser, Iwa realized they couldn’t go anywhere with how Oikawa looked. He sighed heavily. “I’ll get the car.”

\-------------

By the time they had reached the apartment it was 10am. The sun was shining, birds were singing and Oikawa was still crusted with blood. 

Iwa supposed foresight was 20/20 with the father considering how obviously involved with shady dealings they looked. Iwa driving their cheap car they had carpooled to earn under separate names, Oikawa hiding under the back seats while Fuze looked as pale as snow. 

Some would say Fuze looked like he’d seen a ghost. Everyone knew he really had. 

As they pulled up into the driveway, Iwa couldn’t help but feel like a smoke or a sleep. Despite how strict he was to himself he just dealt with a 28 hour day juggling work, the idiots beside him and a mob boss. He opened the door as they reached the driveway, parking outside of view the best he could. Thankful for the easterly sun.   
They got out the car and went up the stairs as quickly as possible without arising suspicion before calmly throwing themselves through the door. They all took a huge breath of relief as they reached the comfort of home. 

“I’m taking a shower! Iwa do you mind hand-washing these clothes, got to look through that file,” he didn’t stop walking to the bathroom as he rambled the words. Not waiting for a response. 

Before they could say anything he was gone. The sound of the rusty showerhead straining. Fuze stumbled over himself weakly saying “I’m gonna get a drink…” wandering into his room where Iwa assumed he bootlegged some speak alcohol or got it cheap from some wanderer during a late night. 

Leaving Iwa, shaking in the living room. Back to the role of the mother, he took off his blazer. Placing it in the wash basket. Slowly relaxing, he got the file. Now dried with blood and placed it under the kitchen utensils. Reminding himself to set that as the safe-guard place for that file. He washed his hands under cold water, before getting out a can of fruit. Eating it clean and heading to bed. 

They were quiet the next morning, sleeping throughout the whole of the next day until finally awaking to the bustling of the morning. Oikawa awoke to see Fuze and Iwa on the couches waiting for him to awake. “Morning,” he chirped. 

Iwa and Fuze looked at him unamused. Moving on from the chipper word, “I’ve read through this whole file, it contains plans for the destruction of a farm and possible murder of a moonshine maker.”

“Really?” he peered over Iwa’s shoulder to read the words, who consequentially gave them to Fuze. He lay his head on the sofa back in disappointment. 

Fuze continued, “it says he didn’t pay his fee.” He looked towards Oikawa, not wanting to explain the full scope of what it meant. 

“He was an alcohol salesman,” shrugged Oikawa. 

Fuze shook his head, the knowledge of bartendering returning to him. “Selling alcohol is generally a one off payment by the customer, done under covers. Even when brewers are commissioned to work for a specific person there isn’t anything they have to pay themselves, only a service they need to provide. That being, in this guys case, moonshine.”   
“So the fee is only custody of working with the father then,” he leant on his hand. Pretty much getting the picture. “You’d think there would already be a high mortality rate working for the mafia but this fee just sort of increases it. Is there any completion date?”

“3 days,” his words were flat as Fuze realized Oikawa may make them do it anyway. 

“Then lets get going then,” as Oikawa turned towards the door he could barely move when he felt a immense amount of force grip at his neck lifting him up. He gasped in shock, loosing his breath for a second. 

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOUR GETTING US INTO?” shouted Iwa, his eyes wild with worry. A spark had erupted from him, “YOUR PUTTING ALL OF US AT RISK TO DO THIS THING THAT COULD RESULT IN SILENCE. ALL THIS DEATH WOULD BE FOR NOTHING.”

He grabbed at the hands wrapped around his neck, reaching out for words. Only for nothing to appear. 

“Is it really worth all these lives?” Iwa tightened with a sharp hiss, as Fuze was about to step in he released letting the man fall onto the ground. Blue bruises around his neck.   
Speechless they followed Iwa down to the car, Oikawa put the cigarettes in his pocket jumping in the front seat. The man that was once quiet and obedient had suddenly emerged in full force as the power he really is. Wordlessly they allowed Iwa to drive the stocked up car through the countryside, passing the trees and barren countryside that sat just outside their reach. The engine hummed in the background, the time they could’ve spent for tactics was now spent with cold air. The sun had moved towards the rest by the time they reached the farm, all they had to do was get some alcohol and destroy the place. Seemed simple. 

The long rows of malt gently swayed in the wind. They looked at each other before jumping out the car, holding their guns close. Fuze stayed behind in the car, sitting in the darkness as they wandered to the only building with the lights on. Oikawa walked to the door and with Iwa threw it open. 

Inside was a brewery and a man with a oily mullet, “OY!” the man turned to face Oikawa who stood there with a grin, “the father is very disappointed in you, you didn’t pay your bills mate,” he shook his head. “You know what that means.” He flicked a jar of moonshine out of the man’s hand a smile on his face, the man’s eyes went wide with panic as it settling in him what that meant. 

The man escaped to a nearby shotgun, aiming it towards them. Switching between the two of them, at once he let out a shot and all hell had been released. 

Oikawa and Iwa sprinted from the building, a defeaning shout from behind them. Fuze had drove to them, a shot destroyed a window as they raced inside. Driving into the fields, dirt being thrown up behind them as they roared the rust-bucket car into the corn field. 

In the darkness, Oikawa searched their things. Taking out a cigar he looked towards the moonshine, “I’ve got a plan.”

The sound of the harvester revving in the distance, rushing towards them. Fuze pulled the car into ignition sliding a corner out of the field, the large turbine chasing them. It’s sharp teeth hungry. The dark glass of the man sat just out of reach. 

Iwa took out a bag of gunpowder and ripped it open, letting the line of dark salt-ish material trail them. As the man spotted it he continued onwards. They drove to the house, Oikawa jumping out reaching for as many jars of moonshine as he could. Opening them and placing (and creating) as many pieces of fabric as possible into the jars. 

Iwa opened a few bullets finished the gunpowder line just in front of the pile of moonshine. Oikawa attempted to light them all before jumping into the car again, the shine of the turbine in the background, it’s teeth stopped moving. The man reaching for a sniper rifle and taking aim. 

“Drive! Drive! DRIVE!” They shouted into Fuze’s ear as they jumped into the car. The first few gunshots missing. 

Adrealine rushed through his body as he reversed, careful not to hit anything. Aware of every shot ringing beside him. Hitting the metal body of the car, the car slid of the grass. Stuggling to keep steady. In his head he counted down, the tractor looming beside them. 3..2…

The word went still as an explosion erupted into the night, the orange flower blooming. The flames rushed down the gunpowder setting the sea of corn on fire, the man who was by the barn burnt to a crisp. Falling to the ground as the red sea ocean up around them. 

As Fuze collected himself to hear again he heard the cheer of Oikawa from the passenger seat. He couldn’t quite make out Iwa in the back seat, but he could spot the slightest shake from the large man. The engine hummed soothingly as they raced away, Fuze just wishing to escape from that place. They’d done it. 

They’d killed him. 

The drive back was done with a smile plastered on Oikawa’s face, Fuze simply looking ahead attempting to process what he just did. While Iwa did something a little out of place. “Pass me a cigarette,” he gestured his hand to Oikawa. 

He looked at his old friend confused before handing him a cigar and lighter, after lighting himself one. Breathing in the fresh air of the cold night that always seemed to greet them after these things. 

Fuze felt the most alive he’d ever been but a deep seeded regret had already rooted in him. Too late to change things, this was the way he was going now. 

As they reached back home, they cheered. Having allocated Ikijiri to pay their bills for protection and occasional accommodation they went home to empty bill, well in Oikawa’s case. He collapsed on the sofa, letting out a breath of smoke while kicking off his shoes. “Let’s celebrate!” he cheered the line like a weekly broken record. “Fuze?”

Fuze and Iwa looked towards each other, Fuze sighed wandering to his room. Leaving Iwa looking over the idiot. The bitter smoke numbing the pain of farm. 

“Fuze, come on! We did it.” He leaned up, squinting his eyes as he Iwa sit on the couch opposite him. A cup of tea slid towards his view, he glared at the teabag in the steaming water. “What’s this all about?”

“Decided it would be best to get some rules out of the way, before this” he looked around the whole apartment, “gets any worse.” He put down the cigarette, blowing out smoke before reaching for the tea. Enjoying the slight burn as he drank it plain. 

Annoyed Oikawa sat up to face his old friend. Wondering where this side of him started to appear. Nothing like the soccer playing, food loving kid he remembered. He scowled, starting to drink the served tea. Not enjoying it but it was how Iwa liked to settle things, so let it be. 

Iwa grabbed a leather bound book from nearby, placing it in front of him. “Our major goal is to save your brother right?”

“Yes,” he responded deadpan. Sipping the drink bitterly. 

Iwa wrote it down, underlining it. “and killing the horned owl?”

“May as well kill him while we’re there,” shrugged Oikawa gesturing offhandedly. “Besides the horned owl killed Aone, indirectly albeit, so it would be good to get some revenge.” He drank the tea, finishing the tiny cup. 

Iwa glared at him, annoyed at his willingness to put his life in danger just cause he could. He wrote down Oikawa’s justification and went on with it. “How many other people should get involved in this?”

“As many as needed,” he leant back on the couch. 

Iwa glared at him, putting the book down. “There’s a limit of how many powerful people we can go in contact with before the owls will know our every move Oikawa. Getting Ikijiri and the father involved is already a heavy risk to us.”

“Are you saying I’m too trusting?” he went back to laying on the bed. 

He glared at him, not wanting to go into the topic. “What people do you think we need to retrieve to infiltrate this ‘island’.” 

“Well certainly a weapons guy, we could only do so much with that farmer and…” Oikawa looked up at the ceiling, letting out some smoke. Furrowing his brows in thought, “some experienced people.”

“Experienced?”

“I don’t know, maybe some droppers. That’d simplify this whole task, saves us from having to rub-out any soldiers ourselves.” He took off the fake glasses, realizing he still had them on. What had it been, 5 days? He didn’t want to think about it. “The father is already willing to help and Ikijiri gives us all the info (and money) we need.”

He grunted, writing things down in his leather book. “So, when do you suppose we should attempt to get your brother back?”

“Soon.”

Iwa lifted his eyebrows, boy that was useful information. He knew he was going to get nothing else and closed the door breathing out. He dimmed his cigarette. He stood up from the couch heading towards his bed, his book in his hand. “’Night.”

As Oikawa lay dejected on the sofa he realized he could hear soft crying coming from Fuze’s bedroom. He lifted his hand up, wanting to help. Recognizing that it wasn’t his role to play, he couldn’t help. Suddenly the idea of going to a speak seemed like too much effort, with a deep huff he went fell asleep where he lay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more characters, more drama, less sleep

“We completed the job,” Oikawa said, his hands raised as he stood to the father. A jar of moonshine sat in his huge preowned coat, a cheap hat covered his face while he attempted to smoke.

The red carpets were lined were checked with blue, the deep brown walls had picutres that shined like jewellery. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the room that was double the initial size. Leather chairs that were a rich red were at every side, facing a fireplace, reading a normal newspaper sat the father.

Someone at his side, in a suit strode up to him. The soliders kept their guns at Oikawa until the man walked over, “put your weapons down, what job?”

“M32, I have your moonshine right here,” comfortable that he wasn’t going to be shot in 0.02 seconds Oikawa took the moonshine from his pocket and handed it to the man.

He examined the strong liquor nodding to himself. “So where are your ‘friends’ who joined you last time?” He didn’t lift his eyes.

“They had business to take care off,” he bluffed. He knew full well Fuze was struggling after the farm, Iwa agreed to support the bartender best he could until Oikawa completed the chore.

The suited man seemed sufficiently pleased, he tossed his hand up. Letting Oikawa finally walk into the real room. As he was about to take his first step the mans voice shot through again, “one wrong move and your dead.”

“That’s a given,” thought Oikawa to himself as he walked through the room. His own steps seemed soft as he walked through, the air was incredibly tense. The suited man with glasses showed him to a pretty-disappointing wooden chair. It was elaborately carved with lions paws but it was still just wood, why couldn’t he just enjoy a leather couch. Instead of the piece of toast he slept on. He sat down, not bothering to get comfortable.

The father didn’t stop reading the newspaper. “What do you wish to ask me?”

“I wish to get your assistance with retrieving a hostage from the horned owl,” he made sure to speak as clearly as possible. His words firm.

No response, the suited man that greeted him (having put down the moonshine) wandered over. “Define assistance.”

“Security and backup,” he hoped it would be vauge enough to give the man an idea. As personally he didn’t know what they’d be willing to give him.

The suited man was about to speak when the father said, “I will give you a single man.”

A single man, how helpful could that be. For all Oikawa knew it could be a grunt that couldn’t hit a protagonist if it was in front of him. He ignored his thoughts keeping his voice calm, “Thank you father.”

“Get mad dog,” the suited man left at fathers command through one of the man doors.

Was it an underground mansion mused Oikawa, seemed like it. He betted there was a kitchen, but also another entrance. How far did this place reach? His mind wandered at the idea of an underground mansion and buying said mansion as well as the fact he just earned himself a single person called mad dog to help him on a heist. Can’t complain.

The suited man returned with a Mad Dog, he had a shaved head as well as a heavy build. He reeked with unrelenting power, Oikawa could tell he was difficult to herd anywhere by the way nearby guards gave way to him. The muscular ‘Mad Dog’ didn’t exactly speak, more grumbling in a language Oikawa couldn’t identify. So this was why he got him, communication really is key.

Mad Dog stood beside the sutied man, unblinking.

“Do you have any other business with the father?” asked the suited man with a fast-food worker smile.

“No.”

“You may take your leave,” Oikawa stood up from the chair and walked out with the mad dog, uncertain about what to think about the situation. He tallied the people in his head as he walked up the stairs, mad dog at his tail. So his group consisted of a emotional revenge-seeking bartender, a motherly cold old-friend, a ex-mafia baker, a foreigner and a man going under a fake name. Jesus Christ, Iwa was right, they weren’t far from drawing suspicion from what it looked like alone. They exited into the front half of the hairdressers, exiting as if they’d just gotten a good snip.

“So,” he searched for words to say, his throat tightening. “What’s your name big guy?”

“Gosse,” responded the man flatly, walking beside him, his face was stuck in a permanent frown.

Oikawa paused, “Gross? What a nam-“

“Gosse,” he stated more firmly.

“Gross?” No matter what he said it sounded wrong, unsurprisingly.

Annoyed Grosse let out a grumble. Reserving himself to silence in response to Oikawa’s general lack of understanding.

“Okay, okay then buddy, I’ll let it be,” taking the hint he let them walk in silence back to the apartment, Oikawa looking for stay glances from the corner of his eye. There was no way the inclusion of Gosse went unnoticed.

Oikawa unlocked the door as he went back and wandered in with Gosse by his side. The apartment was clean, freshly baked scones sat in the corner of the room. It took him a second to process the fact that Iwa made them, directly going to them after he closed the door behind them. “Fuze! Got someone you should meet buddy.”

Fuze lifted his head from his book, the Sherlock homes esque story was placed on the table. As he spotted the big guy sweat began to bead on his neck. Memories of Aone flooded him, straight faced he said, “So you’re from the father then.”

Gosse nodded, looking at him straight in the eye. “From mob man, yes.”

“Name’s Fuze, you?” he didn’t bother putting out his hand to shake. Instead relaxing into the bread couch while Gosse sat across from him.

“Gosse, what is that book?” he glared at the book sitting on the table. Resting beside some cheap tea Fuze had found in the cupboard. He had a thick accent between his teeth, blurring out some of the words to everyone.

Fuze picked it up, “It’s called Lost in the attic.”

“Lost in attic? What happens to make being lost in attic so interesting to you?”

Oikawa looked on to Fuze and Gosse’s chatting in surprise. Eating the scone that sat on the table plain like an apple. Fuze explained the story from the cheap dollar store novel, it was about some children being stuck in an attatic and what it did to them. Oikawa didn’t take Gosse for the literature type, the more you know. He enjoyed the crunchy bready scones and got some instant coffee prepared for them, setting it in front of them. Allowing the conversation to unfold in front of him, he processed Gosse in translated gulps.

“So these little children have no escape!” he slapped his hand against the book in shock.

Fuze chuckled, “That’s the idea, dunno why anyone would write this anyway.”

“Author should’ve written the children safe in homes with families and small pets to lick their faces not in basement.” Continued Gosse on his child safety tangent. It had been going strongly ever since the coffee arrived, Oikawa could only note ‘protective of children’ in his head about the man.

After the third coming of how Gosse would break the children free, Oikawa asked, “how’d you get involved with the father anyway Gosse. Your appearance aside you don’t appear that… threatening.”

“They offered employment, I completed their jobs.” He shrugged, waving his hands non-chalant.

Oikawa nodded, putting a note in his head. The door clicked open behind them to the tired sliding of shoes, he turned around to face the tired man. “Your back Iwa!”

Iwa closed the door behind him, staring at the new person with slight confusion. “Hello there-“

“His name’s Gosse,” explained Fuze pointing to him.

Gosse looked around at everyone with a furrowed brow, “this is a big group.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa half sighed, holding the instant coffee close.

Iwa grumbled behind the couch, grabbing a scone (surprised to find them pretty untouched) before joining them for at the tables. Not wanting to talk to anyone.

“How was work?” chipped Oikawa to Iwa.

Iwa looked at him with dead eyes, “12 hours of painting.”

Without them noticing the afternoon transitioned to evening, through talking alone (and some alcohol) they found themselves playing cards and having a good laugh. They didn’t sleep really. Gosse was revealed to be a foreigner that grew up along the coast, Fuze explained how he was actually a refugee while Iwa brought up embarrassing childhood stories of Oikawa’s. With the sharp tone of a parent explaining in detail how Oikawa used to collect cicada shells and scream the alphabet to passers-by.

The next morning was quiet with only Iwa being willing to wake up in the early hours of the morning. He scanned the surrondings of the apartment, grumbling at the couch sleeping Oikawa. His leg and arm draped off the bed, open to the cold. Annoyed he wandered into his bedroom, chucking a blanket on top of him before getting on with general chores. A part of him hated having to be the mother figure. Yet what could be done, with a company of children someone had to stop them from being an idiot.

The days were quiet while Gosse adjusted into their lives. Fuze stuck to him, explaining everything that was asked while Oikawa decided to try fitting in more with his fake name Izaka. Simply introducing himself like a friendly neighbour to anyone who didn’t like would bite his head off.

One cold afternoon Iwa washed the utensils he had used to make a batch of scones. Eying the bready top with a satisfied smile he heard a soft ring of the doorbell.

“Delivery for Izaka.”

Iwa furrowed his brow, did Oikawa really get mail. He assumed the place was pretty unknown, after all not even the father knew of their location. That he could wrap his head around. He took off his baking apron (he only dabbled in putting on by himself) and wandered to the door.

A young stached man sweating heavily placed a small parcel in his hand before shoving a clipboard in his hands. “Please sign off here.”

Iwa scrawled a signature out of thin air then the door slammed down. He looked at the brown paper package, a thin colourful card sat on the top. Taped by cellotape. He tore the card off, a colourful owl winked at him. Written in fine ink were the words:

_Found you_

Beep beep. Instantly Iwa’s body shook, he tore open the paper to see a small bag. He didn’t even need to know what the inside looked like to realize he was holding a fucking bomb. Jesus. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he stacked the possible ends. Keep the bomb in or throw it out? In or out in or out.

BEEP BEEP

Yep nope theres no time, too many civilans. Justifiying myself later on this one, Iwa thought to himself rushing into the window. He threw himself out, reaching his hands out for the nearby metal of balconies or pipes. Suddenly the fifth floor felt pretty high up. His hands fought to keep himself stable. His ears strained for the slightest sound of beeping when an explosion engulfed the apartment. The tinge of red burning into his face, making him loose grip. He fell onto the ground, the weight of his landing rushing to his knees.

A shocked silence filled the street as they looked at the scene. Eyes on destroyed building, without thinking be began to run through the subrubs. Hunting for everyone else in his apartment. As he raced to the side of an alleyway, a shortcut to the bakery. He felt a surge of power yank him off his feet, throwing him onto the wall.

Heavy breath out, Iwa looked carefully at the knife to his throat. The man ‘glared’ at him through an owl mask, tipping his head erratically. Iwa felt his hand shake as the man released wandering around the corner. Iwa felt his breath shudder. He collected himself and went back to hunting for everyone else, thankfully Oikawa had found Fuze and Gosse and had gotten to the square at the centre just off the bakery.

Oikawa smoked, glaring at the passerbys.

Iwa grabbed a chair catching the group by surprise.

“Iwazumi, why aren’t you at the apartment?” Oikawa snapped, putting his cigarette butt down angrily. Holding a bag of bread in his hand.

Iwa looked at them wide eyed. “We got evicted from the apartment.”

Silence settled over them, Fuze almost wanting to disappear into the floor. He hid his face in his book, attempting to think things over. They had been there for weeks, now suddenly kicked out.

“What now?” Gosse’s large voice grated the air.

Iwa put his hand on his head angrily, messing up his hair, “I don’t know. Can’t exactly find a new apartment.”

“Go to some old friends then? Split up?” oikawa’s voice was a low monotone. “What other choice do we have?”

“I know someone, follow me.” After Fuze, Oikawa and Iwa exchanged looks of uncertainty with each other they followed behind Gosse. They wandered through the town, swerving around people. They felt a presence behind them, urging them onwards. Iwa could feel the sweat building on his forehead as they followed Gosse.

They eventually reached a outer alleyway on the edge of the city, a small apartment block sat between two large houses that loomed above. Getting a set of keys from his side Gosse wandered to a nearby car, throwing a spare pair at Fuze. “Client owns set of cars, said I could use.”

Seems legit. They unlocked the cars and jumped in, not knowing this was going to be the longest drive yet. Already a reasonable piece of the city, a solid half an hour to the centre while driving (not including traffic). Fuze took Iwa while Oikawa leapt into Gosse’s car.

With a reeve of the engine they began on their way. Iwa looking every way as they drove out the grey city, Fuze looking ahead to the Clyno motor car. The river sat beside them, the light glinting off the silk water. He kept his eye forward. Iwa looked out the window, remembering to breath deeply to remove any trace of worry from his skin.

They didn’t quite remember how long the drive went. Long enough to make your muscles ache but not so long that you’d feel tired from it. The river blurred as they drove down the highway, passing gas stations and broken down cars. Little towns of three houses, past large evergreen parks filled with smiling children. By the time they had reached their destination the sun taunted the horizon.

Exiting the car to a quiet costal town not too far off. A series of copy-paste houses sat next to an empty road. A church bell chimed in the distance while weeds shook in the breeze. Little blades of grass grew towards the coast. On a beach just jutting out of some cement bricks, some boats sat. Days of striking wind no long hitting them. Iwa, Fuze and Oikawa didn’t quite know what to think of this.

Until Iwa settled in his mind, looking at the stone houses with painted windows. Perhaps there wouldn’t be anyone. Orange roofs soaked in the sun. Iwa tried to relax. There wouldn’t be as heavy of a sign of The Owls here, surely. They drove to a empty house on the side of a rocky hill, parking as close as they could.

Fuze betted he didn’t actually know people who owned all these things. The large man unlocked the door with a set of keys that lived in his pockets and wandered into the spider ridden house. It was barley big enough for two people, let alone all four of them. Spider rested in the corners, spinning silk webs, the floor was a honeycomb pattern while the chairs were marshmallows of jumper fabric. It was like a Christmas jumped just threw up on them.

A fireplace sat in front of the lounge beside a kitchen that Gosse could barely stand in. 2 couches and 2 bedrooms (?) just enough for all of them. They walked into the room and settled themselves into the couches with some effort. Iwa let out a breath of relief. Breaking the tense silence.

“We’ll be safe here for now,” explained Gosse. “Owl’s reach is only so far.”

“Thanks buddy, but we aren’t exactly going to find people in this place. We can’t essemble a team of grannies to fight them,” shrugged Oikawa breathing out smoke.

“The local butcher Kurro will help us, he knows good people,” Gosse crossed his arms, Fuze barely fitting on the couch beside him.

Iwa wasn’t completely certain, lying on the side of the couch like a cat. Looking at the floor, eyeing the heater in the corner. They’d escaped for now.

The next day Iwa stayed home, attempting to create a morning routine for himself until he was finally at ease. Leaving everyone else to find some way to pass the time. Gosse headed towards the local butchers. Down the local strip to the familiar red wings of the butcher. He entered to see Kurro, a guy with permanent bedhead that always sat where it pleased. His gloves stained with red as he put meat out on the stand. As he spotted Gosse his eyes lit up with a cheeky grin beneath it, “Gosse! Long-time no see, how was your work in the city?”

“Alright,” he eyed the different meats.

“Should I get you the usual,” he grabbed some ham, sausages and piece of meat. Aiming for all the cheapest pieces before putting a small discount on.

As Kurro get the meats packed separately Gosse asked, “how are black cats?”

“Working around, theres a higher demand inner-city then out here,” he wrapped up the meat in newspaper.

“Need the black cats for a job of mine,” he grabbed eat package one of a time. Waiting for it.

Kurro raised his brows, “really? Didn’t think you were the type of guy.”

“For an aquantience,” he payed the money in full, letting the empty butcher be open for conversation.

“Well mate, make your ‘aquantiences’ meet up at the farm. We can deal with formalities there,” he patted him on the chest. “Good day bastard.”

Gosse left nodding him off, a bag of meat in hand. With just enough for a few stray cans of campbells tomato soup left.

On the other side of town Oikawa sat near the coast. Eyeing boats and fisherman talking about mundane activities. He smoked lying on the cold stone that serpated the town from the ocean. Where would a military man be. They had information and Gosse knew someone. He knew Fuze was resting with Iwa at the new place. He perked up as he spotted a wild haired man come in from sea, his boat revving in the water letting out plumes of water into the air. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to the oddball who seemed to celebrate sea salt and sticky hair.

It was a surprise to Oikawa to find, after deciding not to creep on the boatman, there was an active bar. Wasn’t even a speak. Just a simple bar with golden ale and long bottles of wine that cost more then a kidney. It was even open, needless to say he helped himself to some cider. Knowing that hunting for a firearms man while drunk would not be the best idea. As he sipped the dark apple drink the colourful haired man sat beside him. Spiky orange hair with black on the side of his head. He was built and reeked of seafaring.

He’d just found the man for the job.

“Rough weather today?” Oikawa smirked at him.

The guy had a devilish grin back, “you know it, surprised I still was in the boat by the end of the day.”

“Really now?” it felt like talking to a child to Oikawa but he knew the guy was dangerous.

He offhandedly ordered a beer, “12 hours of fighting for fishing ground between owls really keep you busy!”

“owls?” He couldn’t believe his ears. A piece of him imagined men with hooks singing arr and scurvy through the night. He doubted they exsisted.

“Bloody men waving their guns around like it’ll intimidate people,” he waved his hand around. “Those niggas always know whats coming when they see my boat.”

“It must be getting boring always going against those guys every day,” he swiged back more cider.

The shruffy haired man nodded, “know the whole routine by now.”

“Then ive got an opportunity for you,” he leaned towards him, chuckling. “Name’s Oikawa.”

“Yuji,” they shook hands before returning to their alcohol. “What’d you got?”

Chapter four

The next evening Oikawa returned arm in arm, cheering with Yuji into the household. Iwa, who had previously been trying to make something from soup and meat, nearly jumped over the oven. Struggling to keep his hand still as he warmed the soup.

“Guys! Meet Yuji!” he shouted into the household.

Iwa gave him a sharp glare, before returning to his tomato soup.

“Morning fellas, name’s Yuji. A local fisherman, so this guy tells me you have a job going on with those pesky owls,” as the mention of owls everyone’s attention turned to the stranger. Iwa flicked his head allowing the duo to come into the shaken house.

Oikawa closed the door behind him while Yuji sat on the plaid sofa. His skin noticeably tanned compared to everyone else.

Fuze decided not to respond to him.

“We do have a plan to take down the owls, yes,” Oikawa nodded by the door as Iwa spoke. “I don’t seem have to caught why you’re qualified to do this though, care to explain.”

The man stopped drinking whatever Fuze and put on the table (to Fuze’s displeasure). Looked up at Iwa with puppy dog eyes. “I’m a seasoned fisherman with enough ammunition to stop an army, qualified enough yet kitten?”

Jesus Christ, this guy rubbed Iwa the wrong way. It was like sandpaper on dynamite and that was only first impressions. Must’ve been the new Yorker accent “I guess you do appear to be qualified…”

“Yuji.”

Iwa grumbled, returning to making lunch without any further comments.

“Why’s he doing the cookin anyway Oikawa?” he pointed to Iwa, returning to his older talking partner. “Shouldn’t ya have a doll do it instead?”

Oikawa shrugged, meanwhile Fuze (not lifting his head from book) responded, “he cooks well enough.”

“Also extra casualties,” Oikawa picked up an apple from the fruit basket. Taking a huge bite of the ruby red.

“Extra?” He looked at Fuze with raised brows. Downing more of his tea.

Fuze nodded, “we’re not exactly going against a tenant.”

“He are you goin against? The owls?” he chuckled to himself like it was the best thing he’d heard all morning. “Dude, it’d be safer to noose yourself then go against them.”

They tossed a nervous glance to each other.

“No way, the owls. Do you wanna suicide wish?” he looked around at the group of 3.

Oikawa glared daggers at him, “they took some people from me, we need to get him back.”

Iwa turned the heat off the stove, looking at him head tipped. He thought it was just his brother. Clearly that was wrong, what happened to this guy. Yuji had a similar reaction.

“Get them back, dawg they’re dead!” he snapped.

Oikawa sighed, “if they’re dead then the horned owl will pay the price.”

“You don’t know who your going against dude,” he fretted. His eyes wide while his shoulders sat tense against the sofa.

Iwa poured four bowls of soup, saving the scrap for Gosse once he returned from his job. They had to afford staying there somehow. Putting some recently stale bread in the soup he put them in front of everyone in the household. “We know what they can do Yuji. Perhaps it would be easier if we proved ourselves to you.”

He looked at Iwa straight in his eyes, unwavering. A shiver ran down his spine, “prove yourself…” Relaxing into the glare a dark cherchire cat smile crawled up his face. “alright then lads, if you insist you can go after The Owls.” He stood up from his seat, an air of a king around him. He puffed up his trench coat, “there’s a shipment of firearms coming from Seashell Bay, if you can retrieve my lil ‘pass times’ without any casualties then by all means I’ll try listening to your owl story. I’ll have you know there’s a difference between takin down a few fodder and the horned owl.”

“Anything else?” Iwa couldn’t help but be intrigued by this change of character. Oikawa realized in that moment, his hunch was right. Besides what did he mean by casualties, it was picking up weapons. What made these worth casualties anyway.

He threw his hand non-chalant, “if anyone asks its for Terushima.”

“I think I’m gonna stay out of it this time,” Fuze said putting his book down. “Can’t really help in the thick of things.”

“your choice,” Oikawa’s eye lit up at the idea of seeking this task.

Yuji insisted that they complete the task that evening, (“they get a little touchy if you leave ‘em waiting”) before heading off back to his boat shed. Leaving Iwa and Oikawa to plan, after booting Fuze into his bedroom. They brought out a map that was lying in a book along with a pen.

Iwa circled Seashell Bay and drew a route for them to take both there and back. Oikawa listened, tracing each line Iwa drew out into his head, imagining every road. Thinking through every shortcut that may exist. Ponting to crevesis and hills for possibly side ways to wander into the fray. The light illuminated their faces, intent on every crossing line on the paper.

As evening began to fall upon the beachside town, they said a quick goodbye and jumped into the car. Iwa sat at the helm, not trusting Oikawa at the helm. There was a stillness in the air. Each individual star speckled in space, dancing freely. Blinking at their actions. With a few turns of the key the car purred to life, shaking beneath Iwa’s feet. He turned out through the unlit houses whose street lamps gleamed in the darkness. Moths and fireflies flittered through the darkness, the occasional footsteps.

A puff of smoke, a chill in his fingers. Tomorrow’s supper shopping list lay crumbled beneath his feet as he stepped on the drivers pedal. A forgotten can of soup rolled in the back seat. Untidy hair that spiked in every direction, regrowing hair that retraced its steps. They left the town in a matter of breaths into the blue fields of the night. The only signs of life being far of ships pretending to be constellations on the horizon.

Oikawa lay his arm out the window, content. Hiding his excitement between layers of smoke and eyes that recited every piece of the Milky Way. He took off his fake glasses, feeling a place of comfort finally being himself. After so long.

They only spoke through the occasional comment of “turn left” and “wrong way”. Leaving the knowledge of what was coming to do the talking for them. Their loaded guns clanked in their pockets next to new ammunition. A simple clean drive to the dock, with barely a house was what they had reached.

They stepped out the vehicle, confused. A light flashed before them, along with the rev of a motor, gasoline slipped into their noses. A man of colour stopped at them, as confused as they are. “Where’s Terushima?”

“Terushima sent us,” Oikawa spoke calmly. The rocking of the boat being like a broken record into his head.

He glared at them, looking for signs of a lie, flicking eyes or sweaty hands. Nothing. Not his problem anyway, he was just a mail boy. “Here,” he grabbed a large box. Struggling to lift it up and giving it to the duo.

They grabbed it, feeling the strain. They moved the box to the back of the car, sliding it in and nodding the man off.

“Terushima claimed there’d be trouble,” Oikawa spoke after closing the back of the car.

The man jumped, “trouble? Not for the next minute.”

Oddly specific. Okay then, “wh-“

He nodded himself off and drove away on his boat before he could say anything else. His little boat roaring into the night. With a click every hair of Iwa was on end, Oikawa gritted his teeth spotting the shine of a gun.

No causalities.

Footsteps, a hushed murmer. Iwa strained his ears to every movement guessing how many stood behind them.

“How nice of you, bringing a gift for us gals.” His voice was deep and rough. The sort you’d expect every villain to have emanated from behind Oikawa.

Iwa thought there was about 5 people between the unknowns. Tossing a look to Oikawa he mobolized the gun, it shot out with a bang from behind his ear. A buzz hanging in the air as he grabbed the unknown’s arm, shoving him to the car and whacking his head against the metal. Throwing him to the ground by the beach.

Meanwhile Oikawa grabbed the man’s arm under his own mobilizing it. As he snaked for it the man swung for him, he felt the impact against his head as grabbed the gun and threw him forward with all his might. Firing the unused gun into his knee before turning towards the others.

A woman lunged at him with a knife (who brings a knife to a gun fight), thrusting it onto him. He grabbed the arm forcing her forward, in a single movement threw her onto the ground. Punching her back, she screamed. Another force appeared from behind him stabbing into his back. He gritted his teeth, turning to the man and with clenched fists. They lunged at each other in a toss of strength he pressed to the ground, stepping to the side he grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. Picking him up in a headlock, forcing an arm behind his back. Pressuring it down. As he heard a crack from the guys arm he reached for the gun in his pocket and shot at point black onto his pelvis. Dropping him to a scream.

Iwa felt a hand grab his ankle, he reached for the next unknown. Who seemed to enjoy waving his tommy gun around. He shot at his leg, instant he reeled over in pain. He grabbed the gun from the man, bracing for impact. In a movement he disabled the gun off him, throwing the stock into the man grabbings his foots face and shooting at his knee.

There was a cry of pain as the man attempted to thwart him off with newfound vigor but he was danced around and thrown to the ground. He lay there unable to get up. Iwa and Oikawa looked around. Iwa raced to the back of the truck where a man smashed through the case. Oikawa got out his gun and shot, it was over in seconds. From standing to the ground before he could blink.

Iwa looked wide eyed at his friend.

“Stop being so paranoid, that’s what their used for.” He slammed the trunk closed and climbed into the car.

 Iwa battled with himself as he got into the car. Agreeing but still not enjoying the pit in his stomach post fights. They drove back to the house in a matter of hours. Storing the ammunition away in the basement until Yuji reappeared. The sailor waltzed up to their house with his carefree smile and smell of cigarettes. He just had to see the look on Oikawa’s face to know they had completed the job. The messy haired man wore his grin like a weapon.

“So, you got me the gear?” he patted Oikawa on the back as he wandered into the house.

Iwa nodded, head in a cookbook. “Its down in the basement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could do this sort of job earlier Oikawa,” he puffed his cigar with a merry cheer. “Would’ve hired you much earlier.”

Oikawa opened the door to the basement, flicking his head to make the man come over.

“Being able to get stuff from out of nowhere locations alive isn’t a job you can advertise publicly.” Iwa grumbled behind them.

As they went to the basement, Yuji opened the box with a sastified whiff. He sighed in relief, stroking the label on to box before looking inside.

“What’s even inside there that’s worth smuggling in. You can get ammunition at any corner store,” shrugged Oikawa. It was easy to get a gun, why all this fuss.

He raised his eyebrows, “you haven’t seen what these can do.” He grabbed a grenede with a gold star on it, sticking his tounge out. Like it was a little game he was playing. “Dude, this little sucker can take down a whole room with a little click. Sting ball and smoke grenade, was a little bitch to make.”

Make? His eyes widened processing the double capabilities. That would be difficult to find in store. “You made that?”

“I’m the ideas man, got a person down the southwest that knows how to make ‘em.” He placed it back between pieces of material and packaging peanuts. Between shaved down shotguns, tommyguns and semi-automatics he brought out a sniper rifle. He put it up his  eye, looking extraordinarily comfortable with the whole working of it.

“Sure is a large shipment you got there,” Oikawa felt himself noticeable sweat a bit. Who the hell was this guy anyway? The personality change was intimidating enough, the ease of reloads and using weaponary made a shiver run down his spine.

Yuji shrugged, “need it to keep up with those bloody birds. Dude, I can barely deliver anything to Sunday Island with the constant traffic they bring.” He scratched the back of his head, putting the rifle down. “If you really believe you can take them down then dude, be my guest.”

“We didn’t do your chore for nothing, join my team. We can take them down with your help,” spat Oikawa harshly.

Yuji raised his eyebrows, looking over his shoulder, “a 4 man army, you aren’t superhuman dude.”

“The black cats have agreed to help,” he tried to make the word sound important. He didn’t know if they were dangerous anyway, Grosse just said they were willing to help.

He put the rifle down, picking up the box, “black cats? They’ll only take you so far, they’re only willing to do what you pay them and looking at this place,” he looked Oikawa up and down, “you can barely afford any one of these babies, let alone any cat worth a bullet.”

Oikawa gritted his teeth. Holding back every impulse to punch the man, but when the man you wanna fight is holding A grade weaponry generally you stop. “They took someone.”

“Pity plea?” he laughed coldly into the air. It echoed off the basement walls as he walked up the stairs. “Good luck dude.”

He glared down the man, “we made a deal. We get the weapons, you run artillery. Stop dragging this shit out.”

“Get the Black Cats, then try convincing me. There’s no one to stock up anyway,” he chuckled exiting the basement, closing the box.

As they exited back into the house they saw Gosse at the door. The walked in, grabbing a bowl of soup. “Black cats ‘ave agreed to meet up over the weekend you sea rat.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for the past 2-3 months. So far at the 15000 word mark, only 5 thousand from my aim~ Hopefully this first chapter is alright.


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